An hour fell into the sea.
The waves spaced seconds. The seconds shifted the ceiling of time. They ate from the meandering road of Cyprus trees which used to end on the steps of a small cafe called La Catedral.
Yet we couldn’t find the cafe anymore. Perhaps the building – with its aromas of paella mixta and fruity red wine – trapped itself inside the crocheted web of yesterday’s sunset.
The moon hummed “Let’s fall in love in Spain…”
You said “Forever.”
I said “No, Conquistador. I will die on the streets of Morocco’s Blue City on the other side of the Mediterranean.”
Your green eyes sunk into a dense silence.
The moon stopped humming.
Your kiss came out of the sea.
It was blue.
@short-prose-fiction (Gabriela M.)
image: Ruslan Kalnitsky; Shutterstock; [link]